She's Not Here
by MockJayPhoenix12
Summary: Set during S3 EP5 "A Life in the Day." My take on the evolution of Eliot and Q's relationship in the alternate timeline.


8-25-18

She's Not Here

Eliot guided Q to the bed, breaking a pattern of kisses to his neck only to push him onto his back. He knelt beside the bed between Quentin's knees, slowly, deliberately caressing the insides of his thighs. As his lips drew higher, Eliot glanced up to see if Q was watching him.

Q's arm was draped over his eyes, his mouth tense with a frown. When his chest shuddered with a smothered sob, Eliot's heart sank.

"Q?" he whispered, sitting beside his friend on the bed, leaning over him with a light touch to his shoulder. "Q, honey, what's wrong?"

Quentin sat up with his legs folded beneath him, pushing the hair from his face only to hide his eyes behind his hand. Another sob shook him. Eliot slowly wrapped his arms around him, pulling Q's face to his chest.

"There, I've got you," he muttered, planting a kiss on the top of Q's head. "Whatever it is, we'll work it out." He smiled, fingers stroking his friend's hair. "If you weren't in the mood, you could've just told me."

A snort of laughter escaped Q, and he clutched the front of Eliot's thin, white shirt. "It's not that," he answered, and continued in a rush, as if desperate to get the words out, "It's just that I-I keep wondering if we're ever gonna see our friends again, and when we do, I just..."

"Of course we will," Eliot said. "You know we will. It might take another year, but-" The hand on Q's hair stilled as he realized what Q had been trying to say. "We'll see them again," he finished, unsure whether to address his assumption.

Quentin pulled away to look up at Eliot, one hand still fisted in his shirt. "Eliot, it's not that- that this is… I actually- I really enjoy-"

"I believe what you're trying to say is that I'm the best you've ever had," Eliot interrupted, grinning smugly.

With a half-smile, Q sighed. "...Knowing that any day this might all just disappear… Remembering what I've left behind…" He let go of Eliot's shirt to tuck his hair behind an ear, eyes searching the floor as if for an answer. Giving up, he laid back down on the bed.

Eliot lay flat beside him, hesitating a few times before he finally finished Quentin's thought. "You miss Alice." He forced himself to turn, watching as Q's face scrunched up again in pain.

"I'm sorry," he told Eliot, again covering his face with his hand. Eliot rolled onto his side, gently drawing the hand away to reveal Q's tear soaked face and dark, glassy eyes. Eliot brushed his tears away, kissing Quentin's forehead and pressing his own against it.

"She's not here, Q. We are," Eliot breathed, closing what little space was between their lips for a weakly reciprocated kiss. "However much time we have left here- why not make the most of it?"

"I guess I just want… more?" Q suggested, before hurrying to retract his words. "I don't mean _more_ like- I don't know."

"No, I understand," Eliot said, settling back on his side with his hands to himself. While it was a lie to say he understood, he worried that he knew exactly what Q was referring to.

"I mean, it's not like I'm your first choice either," Quentin remarked.

Eliot chuckled to mask the hurt of rejection. "Well, let's just say the average highschooler could teach you a lesson on how to give a decent blowjob."

Q frowned. "Ouch."

Eliot turned his face so that Q wouldn't see him roll his eyes.

"...Am I that bad?"

Eliot snorted. _I could teach you,_ he thought, but settled for shaking his head. "...Didn't Alice dump you?"

Quentin sighed. "I mean, yeah, but, it's not like it was the first time that's happened."

Eliot looked down to find him staring stubbornly at the ceiling. "What if it's not the last? Is she that special to you, Q?"

"It's not just _her_ , El. It's what we had together."

"A _normal_ relationship?" Eliot pressed with disdain. "That's what you're getting at, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Quentin snapped, sitting up. "Is that so much to ask for?"

"Seeing as you're stuck alone with me indefinitely, I'd say so."

"Look, I didn't ask for this."

"And here I'd have thought the fanboy would be a lot more accepting of his 'grand quest.'"

"Maybe I just never realized that quests can be just as shitty as real life." When he started for the door, Eliot followed him.

"Q? God, Q, just stop!" He grabbed Quentin's shoulder, startled when Q turned to shove his hand away with an unyielding glare. "Look," Eliot said in a deliberately quiet tone. "I won't try to force or trick you into something you don't want. But we _are_ all that we have right now. We can't afford to stay mad at each other."

Q put his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Eliot said, catching his hand before it found its way to Q's face again. Seeing his hesitation, Q wrapped Eliot in his arms, burying his face in the taller man's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for being a dick. You're a great friend, El." Q pulled away so that Eliot could see the truth in his eyes. "I'm glad you're with me- _really,_ I just… I can't be what you want me to be."

"That's okay," Eliot replied, forcing the sense of abandonment to the back of his mind. "Well, who knows? Maybe we'll have that puzzle solved by the end of the week."

Eight years later

Eliot woke in a haze, confused at first by the jagged edges of rocks poking his bare skin, then by the darkness of his surroundings. It was when he tried to sit up and gasped in pain at the damage done to his body that he began to remember.

Yesterday- bragging to Q of his sexual conquest after one of the gypsies passing through their area had propositioned him. Last night- the drink he'd shared with the man in his tent, only to begin losing his balance and then consciousness after just a few sips. Other fragmented memories flashed through Eliot's mind like bolts of lightning.

He shivered at those thoughts and sat up despite the pain, brushing off the dried mess from his bruised torso. He was alone; the men had left. If he could just clean himself up, then Q would never have to know, and it would be as if this had never happened. As his eyes adjusted in the dim cave, he saw dark lines traced down his thighs. Angry tears stung his eyes as he realized it was dried blood. Feeling around for his clothes, his hand landed upon the blue shirt he'd come to Fillory with, thin with wear- torn now from his assailants' eagerness to strip him the night before.

Eliot curled in on himself, a sob escaping him before he recognized a familiar voice calling his name somewhere outside of the cave. He swiped a hand over his face, quickly spreading the shirt over his groin as he lay back down.

"Eliot!" Quentin cried at the mouth of the cave.

Eliot realized that Q couldn't see him where he was, tucked behind a larger rock in the dark cavern, and it crossed his mind to remain silent and thus avoid a conversation he wanted nothing to do with. It was when Quentin turned back and the morning light fell on his face- when Eliot recognized the same desperate fear he'd seen there the days before Arielle had died- that Eliot ruled out his idea.

"Hey, Q," he said nonchalantly. At his voice, Quentin rushed inside, tripping on rocks as he went.

"Damn it, El, it's almost noon! Why haven't…" His voice trailed off as he came close enough to see his friend clearly. While he'd been fooled by Eliot's tone, his appearance didn't lie. "Eliot," he murmured. There were questions in that one breath that he couldn't seem to find the words for.

"Don't look so concerned, Q-bert," Eliot said, forcing himself to smile and hiding his wince when that stretched a scab on his lip. He wondered if the bruises along his arms and neck were as visible as they were painful. "I never thought I'd say this, but I might be getting too old for the orgy scene. And god knows what diseases those gypsies might have- well, I guess I'll find out soon enough."

Quentin knelt beside him, concern and pity in his eyes that Eliot had to look away from. "El… Did you want this?"

Eliot made a show of rolling his eyes. "I really don't need you kink-shaming me right now."

Q grabbed the side of his face with abruptness that made Eliot tense with anxiety and rage. "You know why I have to ask," Q ground out.

"Let. Go. Of me."

Quentin obeyed the quiet but firm demand, sitting back on his heels and looking over Eliot's nearly naked body. As Eliot had feared, Q's frown deepened and he began to blink rapidly, chest heaving with harsh breaths.

"Just go home, Quentin. I'll be there soon. Teddy needs you."

"You need me too," Q stated.

Among the variety of emotions those words provoked in Eliot, frustration won out. "Fuck you, Coldwater."

Q tilted his head in confusion. "What?"

"What does it matter what I wanted?" Eliot spat. "Since when do you care about that?"

"What- what are you-" Q struggled, shaking his head. "I've never wanted to see you _hurt_ , El."

"Well, I didn't-" Eliot began, interrupted when his breath hitched. He let his eyes fall shut, unable to look Quentin in the eye. "I was just being stupid- so stupid," he murmured, not trusting his voice above a whisper. "This isn't your fault, it's mine. I should have known better."

"This isn't your fault," Q insisted. "How could you have known?"

Eliot wasn't sure whether it was the after effects of the roofie or simply the trauma of last night that led him to tell Q what he'd never admitted to anyone before. "This isn't the first time this has happened to me."

"... _Eliot_."

El rubbed at his face to hide the tears escaping his eyes. "It was almost twenty years ago and I promised myself I'd never be that vulnerable again and I should have fucking known better-"

" _El_." Q touched his arm, making Eliot jump. "Sorry," Quentin said, holding up his hands in submission. "El, you can't blame yourself for what was done to you." He looked down. "If anything, it was my fault."

Blinking his eyes clear, Eliot shook his head. "Don't say that."

"If I could've been what you needed, this wouldn't have happened."

"Then Teddy wouldn't be here."

Q's sad eyes glistened. "...And Arielle might still be alive."

"Q, don't do this. What happened to Arielle was an accident, and this- this wasn't because of you. It took me years, but… I know now that if I couldn't fulfill you the way a woman could, that's not my fault or yours."

Quentin studied him with a strange look on his face. "What did you say?"

Eliot picked at the loose threads of his torn shirt. "I wasn't enough for you, but that's-"

"You think that I- I didn't want to be with you because... you're a guy?"

"You told me you wanted something… more."

"Eliot- I thought..." Q started. His breath of laughter was betrayed by a tear rolling down his cheek. "I thought you just wanted sex. That's what your life was before, that's what _we_ were before, just-" he shrugged- "friends with benefits. It wasn't that I wanted more than _you_ , El- I wanted more than _that_. I didn't want to start something with you that I'd lose when we made it back home."

"Are you serious?" Eliot asked, heart pounding with as much horror as relief.

"Yeah," Q said, smiling through his tears. "El, I'm so sorry."

"Don't- please just don't." Eliot pressed his fist against his mouth when he feared that he'd start crying too. "Q, I just wanna get cleaned up then I'll be back home, okay?"

"Do you want me to leave you?" Q asked incredulously.

El raised his fist to cover his eyes. "I don't want you to see what they did to me."

"Eliot… Can I touch you?"

Lowering the hand that had covered his face, Eliot saw the concern in Q's face and his walls crumbled. "Okay," he whispered, watching his friend's motions.

Quentin slid a hand under his own, stroking El's knuckles with his thumb. After a minute, he raised Eliot's hand to his face, kissing the back of it with gentle lips before showing the palm of his hand the same attention. Eliot realized he'd been rigid with anxiety and consciously relaxed, moving his hand higher to hold Q's face. So many years had passed since they'd shared a moment like this, and Eliot had spent that time believing they never would again.

"I'll help you down to the river," Q said. "Can you walk?"

Eliot nodded, and Q's arm went beneath his shoulders.

"Lean on me."

Eliot waded out to the deeper water while Q rinsed his clothes on the bank. The river was cold, distracting Eliot from the pain of his bruises and cuts as he washed them. His eyes kept wandering to Q, who was doing his best to give Eliot his privacy. As El watched him diligently wringing out the clothes, his heart ached. The thought that a misunderstanding was the reason their relationship had failed was unbearable, but as Eliot remembered their interactions, he realized that he'd had a fair part to play in Q's confusion.

When he came up out of the water, Q stared at the ground, holding Eliot's clothes out for him to take. El clutched his wrist instead.

"Can you help me?" he asked.

Q looked up at him in surprise, but nodded. He rolled up El's sleeves and pant legs for him to work his way into, the damp material clinging to his body. When they'd finished, Eliot tucked the torn half of his shirt under the better side, a chill running through him at the memory of last night.

Mistaking the cause of his shudder, Quentin slid a hand up his arm, squeezing his shoulder. "You're so cold," he whispered. "Let's get you some dry clothes." As he started to turn, Eliot caught his arm.

"Q, wait. It's my fault. The reason we didn't stay together- why I couldn't-"

"We don't have to talk about this now, El."

"I want to," Eliot insisted, voice shaking with emotion. "I need to. I was scared of being committed to you, Q, cause I just knew that once we got back home you'd get back with Alice or find someone else that was better than me. I thought you'd break my heart so I tried not to let you have it, but despite my best efforts, I love you, Q."

Eliot caught his breath, relieved of his confession. Quentin looked like he might cry again, but a small laugh escaped him. He wrapped his arms around Eliot as tight as he dared considering his friend's bruises.

"I should have told you years ago," El said, blinking back tears. "...If I had, would you have-"

Quentin stood on his toes and pressed his lips against Eliot's in a gentle kiss. When he pulled back enough to look into Eliot's eyes, he smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I would've. And I will."

Eliot smiled back, uncaring about his broken lip, and ducked his head down for a deeper kiss. When they parted this time, Q's expression was confident.

"Let's go _home_ ," he said.


End file.
